


Hot Mess

by AbsolutelyNothing



Category: Cobra Starship, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNothing/pseuds/AbsolutelyNothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate is only looking for more beer when he stumbles upon the other omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Mess

**Author's Note:**

> no one even asked for this!! but here it is anyway, six thousand words of my two faves, heat sex, and omegaverse. 
> 
> katelynn assured me that this didn't suck and she also betaed, so many thanks to her.

Nate is only looking for more beer when he stumbles upon the other omega. He’s only slightly tipsy, all things considered. He only had three beers before they ran out. Ryland had told Nate that it was his job to go and scavenge for more since Nate had gotten first shower.

He’s looking for the Panic boys’ dressing room. He knows only two of them are legal, but he knows they’ll have some, and besides, he’s friends with Ryan. They’ve never toured with Panic before this, but both bands have met several times, and he knows they’ll be willing to share.

Nate belatedly realizes he should have made sure he knew where it was before he left. Granted, the backstage area isn’t enormous, but Nate’s still reasonably certain that he isn’t going in the right direction. He makes his way around a corner, only to be faced with a dimly lit hallway that dead ends. Shrugging to himself, he pulls his phone out and checks the time. There’s plenty of time before they’re due to leave the venue and Nate’s just turning around when he hears a soft sound.

He stops. “Hello?” He calls down the hallway. His voice echoes back to him, but it’s otherwise silent. Nate stands still, listening, and he’s just about to chalk it up to his imagination when he hears it again. It’s a quiet sound, like a whimper. Nate squints into the near darkness, trying to make out a person. “Hello?” He calls again, more tentatively.

The thought of leaving crosses his mind, but his curiosity is piqued. _It’s just the backstage of a venue,_ he tells himself. _Not like you’re about to go into the back of a seedy nightclub._ Nate learned his lesson about those particular adventures.

Still, he catches himself creeping down the hallway at first. Realizing what he’s doing, he scoffs and forces himself to walk at a normal pace, his shoulders relaxed and his head high. He’s so busy focusing on his forced casual walk that he walks past the source of the sound.

Nates makes a face and backs up a few feet, tilting his head towards where he heard the sound. He’s rewarded after a minute by a low whine. He takes a few steps towards what seems to be the source: a large stack of folding chairs. He stops when he’s next to them and takes a few deep breaths. His hands curl into fists at his sides as he steels himself and peers over the top.

He’ll never admit just how much his body sags in relief when he sees the small figure wedged between the chairs and the wall. “Hey, are you okay?” He asks, leaning on the chairs and drumming his fingers against the metal.

The figure whines and turns enough that Nate can see it’s Panic’s lead singer, dressed in dark jeans and a lavender hoodie that’s zipped all the way up, the hood over his head.

 _Brent? Brandon-Brendon. Brendon Urie._ Nate’s brain supplies. “What are you doing back here hiding behind the chairs? Did you piss someone off?” Brendon’s small, and Nate knows it wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility that he’s hiding from one of their crew members or bandmates if he did something particularly deserving of retribution.

Nate is vividly reminded of hiding under the bus after pelting Victoria with water balloons.

Brendon doesn’t answer except to whimper again. Nate frowns. “Is something wrong?” He asks and pushes the rack of chairs away from the wall a little so he can crawl in beside Brendon. One of the advantages of being the shortest in a band of gangly freaks is the ability to crawl into spaces they can’t reach him.

He’s about to share the thought with Brendon, even though he’s fairly sure Jon Walker is the shortest person in Panic, when the smell hits him. It’s delicate and sweet, overlaid by something musky and sharp, and it sobers Nate quickly.

Nate’s stomach clenches. “Fuck,” He mutters eloquently and runs a hand through his hair. Nate’s never smelled it on someone else, but he’s experienced it enough himself.

Brendon’s in heat.

Brendon’s eyes have slipped shut and he’s panting shallowly, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his hoodie. When he shifts, Nate can see the hard outline of his cock in his jeans. He’s unmistakably in heat, and Nate can’t help but wonder how this happened. He’s on birth control and suppressants himself, and he only goes off of the suppressants when both he and Alex aren’t touring.

Nate wonders if he’s wet yet. “Brendon, hey,” He tries and slowly crawls a few inches closer. He doesn’t want to spook Brendon.

Brendon turns his face towards Nate’s voice and murmurs something under his breath. He reaches out towards Nate with one hand before dropping it back to his chest.

“What’s that?” Nate asks. His mind is scrambling madly to try and come up with a solution. He can’t just leave Brendon here, but Nate’s not the ideal person for this situation. Even tucked away behind the chairs like this, Brendon is still an easy target for any unscrupulous alpha nearby, and Nate knows well enough that you can’t always tell the bad ones just by looking.

He fumbles in his pocket for his phone and dials Alex. “Please don’t be in the shower,” He mutters as it starts to ring. “Please don’t let your phone be dead, or off, please pick up, please-“ There’s a click and Alex’s voice comes over the line.

“We sent you for more beer forever ago. “Where are you? Did you get lost?” He jokes before Nate can say anything.

“I’m um-“ Nate glances at Brendon. “I didn’t exactly find Panic or get any of their beer.”

“Didn’t _exactly_? Then what _exactly_ did you do?” Alex asks, and he sounds even more amused.

In the background, he can hear Gabe laughing and Ryland’s voice yelling, “Tell him to get his ass back here!”

Nate sighs and switches his phone to his other ear. “I found their lead singer. And um, he’s in heat.” He says, dropping his voice on the last three words.

Alex goes silent. Nate inexplicably wishes he wasn’t talking on a cordless phone so he could have something to do with his hands. “That’s- _wow_ ,” Alex finally says after the silence has stretched on much longer than it should have.

Nate make a noncommittal noise and shrugs before remembering Alex can’t see him. “It’s fucking shitty.” He glances at Brendon out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do for him.”

“I-“ Alex starts and there’s a clatter on his end of the line.   
  


“Okay, listen,” Gabe’s voice says after a few seconds. He’s clearly heard everything Nate said to Alex. “You have Ross’s number, right? Get ahold of him if you can. Where are you?”

Nate glances down the nondescript hallway. “I don’t know, a hallway,” He says. “There’s nothing down here except a bunch of folding chairs, and he’s wedged himself between them and the wall.”

Gabe curses. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you. The venue isn’t that big. Don’t worry.” When Gabe says ‘don’t worry’ in that particular tone of voice, it means Gabe himself is worried. Nate can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Gabe sound truly worried about something. The evident trepidation in his tone isn’t reassuring.

Nate suddenly can’t breathe. If Gabe is worried, then it’s bad. “Lemme talk to Alex,” He says to Gabe. He needs the reassurance of his alpha.

There’s the sound of the phone being dropped and then Alex is saying in his ear, “Hey, you doing alright?”

Nate fights down a semi hysterical laugh. “I’m not the one in heat.” His hands shake as he clutches his phone.

“Still nerve wracking,” Alex says and pauses. When he starts to talk again, it’s in a whisper.  “It’s hard, you know? You just, want to protect him, and help him, and the whole time, you’re terrified for him.”

Nate takes his phone away and stares at it before putting it back to his ear. “Alex, I-“ He doesn’t know what to say next. They never really _talk_ about these kinds of things.

Alex lets out a choked laugh. “I know, I know, shit timing for a conversation like this. But um, listen. Gabe is gonna call Ross, and you should just stay with Brendon until either we find you, or Panic does. And, if he needs help, well. You have my full permission to help him out.”

Nate’s cheeks redden. He moves away from Brendon, just to put  a few more inches between them even though Brendon hasn’t moved at all.  “Thanks,” He tells Alex. “I’m pretty sure I’m not at all what he needs. Maybe if you were here, though, instead of me.”

“Maybe,” Alex says. “But I’m not, and you are, and I’m just letting you know.” He sighs. “I should let you go now.”

“Okay,” Nate replies, even though he doesn’t want Alex to go. He’s not a child; he doesn’t need to be coddled, but he’s never dealt with another omega in heat. Alex would be a much better candidate for this predicament, even if the thought of Alex fucking another omega makes the back of Nate's neck prickle uncomfortably.

There’s a click and the line goes dead. Nate drops the phone back into his pocket and turns his attention to Brendon, who’s curled in on himself and is trembling all over. There’s no way of telling how long Brendon was curled up in the hallway before Nate found him.

“I didn’t sign on for this,” Nate mutters to no one in particular. He crawls closer to Brendon again and puts a hand on his forehead. He’s burning up and Nate’s not surprised. The high body temperature is the first indication of the onset of Nate’s own heats, and Brendon looks to be pretty far along.

Brendon full out moans at the touch and his eyelids flutter open. His eyes are inky dark, pupils blown so wide with arousal hardly any of his iris is visible. He nuzzles Nate’s hand.

Nate attempts a cheerful smile. It feels more like a grimace, but Brendon only moans again. “Hey, um, how you feeling?” Nate asks and then immediately kicks himself. Brendon’s in heat, there’s no way he feels good. Nate’s been there enough times to know.

“Need,” Brendon whimpers. “I need-“ He tries to sit up and Nate slides an arm around him in a sudden rush of bravery. He’s not exactly the best at comforting people, but he wants to help. He doesn’t have much of a choice not to.

Brendon groans and lays his head on Nate’s shoulder, his hood slipping off as he does so. His hair is damp with sweat, cheeks hot and flushed with fever. Nate puts a hand on Brendon’s neck to steady him and his thumb brushes something that makes Brendon let out a wounded noise and bite Nate’s shoulder through his shirt.  

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Nate protests, pushing Brendon back so he can look. His heart stops for a second when he sees the faded bite mark that signifies mating. “Oh, fuck,” He whispers. He leans in close and sniffs at the skin of Brendon’s arm.

The scent, though faint, is unmistakably there. Brendon’s got himself an alpha.

“God, what the fuck?” Nate groans and closes his eyes. Not only is he an omega stuck with another omega in heat, but the omega he’s stuck with is a bonded omega he hardly knows. His night is shaping up to be just fucking _fantastic._

“You’re bonded.” He accuses Brendon, like it’s somehow his fault for not telling Nate. “Don’t you know _anything_?” He half yells, frustrated, and is surprised to find tears pricking at his eyes.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be such a mess. Brendon’s the one who went into heat after performing a show and squirreled himself away in a deserted hallway away from his alpha, not Nate. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon whispers shakily. Nate slowly lifts his head to see Brendon staring back at him. “I’m sorry,” Brendon repeats, his eyes dark and shiny. “I can’t help it, _please._ ”

Nate sighs and squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner. “It’s not your fault, kid. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s just-you’ve got yourself in one hell of a predicament here. Stranded in heat without an alpha, fuck.” He shakes his head and bites back his questions about suppressants, because whether or not Brendon’s on them, they’re definitely not working now.

Brendon whimpers and curls closer to Nate. “Only Spencer touches me there,” He mumbles. He rubs his cheek over where he bit Nate a minute earlier and kisses the spot in what Nate thinks is supposed to be an apology.

“Spencer,” Nate seizes on the name. “Spencer’s your alpha, then. Spencer-Spencer Smith, right? He plays drums in your band, doesn’t he?” He shakes Brendon in his sudden excitement.

“Spencer,” Brendon says, suddenly more alert. He looks over his shoulder and then back at Nate. His hands tremble where they’re gripping Nate’s arms.

“Yes, Spencer, Spencer Smith. Can you call him?” Nate asks, searching Brendon’s face.

Brendon shakes his head quickly, whimpering under his breath.

“Why can’t you call him?” Nate asks in desperation. “Do you not have your phone? Does Spencer know where you are?” He reaches down between them to pat Brendon’s pockets. His heart sinks when they all come up empty.

“Spencer?” Brendon questions, lower lip trembling. He twists around to look down the empty hallway again.

“Oh, fuck, don’t cry,” Nate says hurriedly, backing off on the interrogation. “I know I’m not Spencer, but I’m gonna stay with you until he gets here.” He prays to every deity he can remember that their bands find them soon and Spencer Smith is really Brendon’s alpha.

Brendon calms a little and loops his arms around Nate’s neck. Nate pats his back. “That’s good, we’re just gonna wait a couple minutes and then you’ll get taken care of.”

Brendon stays still for about five seconds before he starts squirming. He crawls fully into Nate’s lap and grinds down before Nate even registers what’s happening.

“Oh, _shit,_ ” Nate gasps. His fingers find Brendon’s biceps and dig in, hard, in an attempt to get him to stop moving. Brendon only moans and rocks himself down harder. “Wait, wait,” Nate tells Brendon. There’s boundaries, after all. Alex may have given Nate permission to do this, but Nate isn’t so sure he consents himself, and he’s definitely not sure that Spencer will be okay with Nate touching his boyfriend.

Brendon whines. “No, please, I’m sorry. I-It hurts,” He leans back a little and bares his throat to Nate in submission. Nate’s only mildly comforted that he recognizes Brendon’s omega instincts.

“Fuck, you are _so_ lucky I’m an omega,” Nate tells him. He gets a grip on Brendon’s hair, curling the sweaty strands around his fingers and tugging. Brendon goes limp and still in Nate’s hold, just like Nate does when Alex does it to him. Nate allows himself to feel proud for a second. “I can’t give you what you need,” He tells Brendon.

Nate sympathizes with Brendon, he really does. Nate’s heats are always a blur of _empty_ and _need_ and then _full_ and _good_ all intertwined with _Alex_.

Brendon whines unhappily. “I can-give me anything, _fuck_ , it hurts,” He begs Nate again, squirming so frantically that Nate’s afraid he’s going to hurt himself.

“I can’t help you out like this,” Nate tells him firmly. “I won’t be able to give you what you need.” He’s fudging both parts, but he doesn’t really feel bad for lying. He _could_ fuck Brendon, but it wouldn’t really be what either of them want, and Nate’s not an alpha, so it wouldn’t be as effective.

Brendon nods as best he can with Nate’s hand still in his hair. Nate slowly releases him, and Brendon crawls off his lap. “Thank you,” Nate says in relief. Maybe Brendon’s not as far gone as Nate thought.

Brendon pulls himself up shakily onto his hands and knees. “Please, I just need-“ He cuts himself off and turns around, thrusting his ass back towards Nate.

Nate swallows hard. He can see the damp spot on Brendon’s jeans where they’re soaked through with his slick. Like this, the smell of Brendon’s heat is even more apparent, something ripe and almost oversweet.

Nate wonders if it’s what he smells like when he’s in heat and shudders, making a mental note to ask Alex later. “That’s so _not_ what I meant,” He says in exasperation. He reaches out and  gingerly touches Brendon’s back. “Come on, don’t do this. Stop fucking- _presenting_ for me, Jesus.” Even in his heat clouded mind, Brendon’s got to be able to tell that Nate’s an omega, too.

Brendon shakes beneath Nate’s touch. “Please, am I good?” He asks tremulously.  He sounds close to tears as he spreads his legs as wide as he can in his jeans. Apparently, even if Brendon can tell Nate’s an omega, he really doesn’t care. When Nate doesn’t answer, Brendon sobs and drops his head down to expose his mating bite.

“Kid, I’m not your alpha,” Nate scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I’m not _anyone’s_ alpha. I’m not an alpha at all.”

Brendon turns to look at him, face red and blotchy. “Not an alpha, so he won’t be mad,” He says through his tears.

Nate sucks in a breath. “Who won’t be mad?” He asks, trying to keep his voice low and even, even though he’s frustrated and Brendon’s use of the pronoun game isn’t helping matters. “ _Spencer_ won’t be mad?” Nate tries.  

Brendon nods and drops his head down again, rocking back towards Nate so imperceptibly Nate wonders if he even knows he’s doing it. “Don’t want another alpha, but I need _so bad.”_

“How about you touch yourself?” Nate suggests feebly. He knows full well it probably won’t be enough, just because it’s never enough for himself. But Nate would rather have Brendon only pleasured by his own hand than risk getting his head ripped off by Brendon’s alpha, even if Brendon claims he won’t be mad.  “I’ll be right here and you can-“ He gestures vaguely, “Go for it.”

“No!” Brendon cries and reaches beneath himself. It takes Nate a few seconds to figure out what he’s doing and by the time he does, Brendon’s already got his pants and underwear down around his thighs. He drops his upper body to the floor and pushes his bare ass up high in the air. “Please, wanna be good.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Nate says to himself. He covers his face with a hand and tries not to peek at Brendon’s naked ass. Even that feels like he’s violating the guy, even though Brendon’s the one who’s offering himself. “Please stop showing off for me.”

“You won’t _fuck_ me,” Brendon bursts out angrily and Nate’s so surprised he drops his hand. It’s the first clear and fully coherent sentence Brendon’s said since Nate found him.

“Of course I won’t, you’re in heat, and bonded, and _I’m an omega_ ,” Nate says, stressing the last part before wondering why. It’s not like he’s _incapable_ of topping someone. He’s topped Alex before, though the occasions are few and far between.

“It just hurts so _bad_ , I need it, _please_ ,” Brendon begs and leans forward again. He rests his face in his arms and spreads his legs open. This time, Nate can’t help but glance at Brendon all open and vulnerable in front of him.

The sight doesn’t stir anything in him like it probably would for an alpha, but he can’t make himself look away either. Slick drips down the crack of Brendon’s ass, getting his thighs wet, and his little pink hole is exposed. It’s so fucking submissive, Nate’s almost ashamed to keep staring. He can’t help thinking of when he does this for Alex. He wonders what Alex makes of it. The thought that he lets himself be so vulnerable in front of somebody else repulses him a little, and it’s the repulsion finally lets him turn away and he whines, bile rising up in his throat.

Two lines of thought are competing in his head. One of them is disgusted at knowing he does this, too, and another part of him likes it, wants it, craves the approval Alex gives him, when he leans down and brushes his lips over the shell of Nate’s ear while tracing a fingertip over his slick hole.

The other side of his brain is yelling at him to just fucking help the poor kid already. Brendon’s obviously in distress, and Nate knows how much being denied in heat hurts. He has a flash of an alternate universe, one in which they’d brought more beer to their dressing room and some alpha, one of the truly awful ones, found Brendon. The thought alone has Nate growling low in his throat, something he only does when he’s very angry or threatened. He hardly knows Brendon,  but there’s something of a kinship in the fact that they’re both omegas.

Slowly, he turns back to Brendon. “I can-um, what do you need?” He asks, and even though it’s more of a cop out than anything, especially since he knows the answer to the question, he still feels like he’s already given in.

“ _Anything_ , just need something in me,” Brendon gasps, reaching back and holding himself open.

“Jesus, that’s pornographic,” Nate mumbles to himself. He kneels up behind Brendon and tries to breathe only through his mouth. “Um, I have like, limited experience doing this to other people, so.” He cuts off and shrugs, because technique is probably the last thing on Brendon’s mind. “Um,” He says again and sets a hand on Brendon’s back.

Brendon’s hips sway back towards Nate. “Am I good for you?” He asks, pushing his ass up that much higher.

Nate rubs just below Brendon’s tailbone. “Yeah, you’re really good,” He says, with less inflection than he probably could have used, but fuck, this isn’t his job. Brendon has an alpha that should be doing this for him. Nate’s only willing to go so far.

Brendon preens under the praise, cooing to himself. Mercifully, he drops his arms and rests his head on them again, so Nate can focus on something other than Brendon’s dripping wet hole clenching around nothing. Nate surreptitiously slides his phone out to check the time and is shocked to find that only six minutes have passed since he hung up with Alex.

“Okay, um, I’m gonna finger you, okay?” He says, because, well. That’s where this was logically heading, and the longer Brendon goes without anything, the worse his heat is going to get.

“Yes, please,” Brendon moans, body rolling. He raises himself back to hands and knees, looking back at Nate. “Please, _now_.”

Nate nods. “Sure,” He feels suddenly, like he’s watching himself from far away and he’s not in control of his body. He watches himself lift his other hand up to Brendon’s ass. His thumb rubs over Brendon’s hole and Brendon shakes. Without conscious prompting, he splays the fingers of his other hand over Brendon’s lower back and presses his index finger into Brendon’s dripping hole.

Brendon keens, clenching around it, and Nate zooms back into his body.

“Holy fuck,” He gasps, staring at where his finger disappears into Brendon.

He probably would have just stayed frozen there for the rest of the night if Brendon hadn’t shoved his hips back roughly with a plea of “More, oh God, _more_ , please.”

Nate presses a second finger in, certain Brendon can take it. He starts off slow, finding a steady rhythm before gradually building up to something faster and harder until he’s finger fucking Brendon hard enough that Brendon has to try and brace himself against the smooth tile floor. Nate takes shallow breaths and tries to copy what he likes when Alex does it for him. He crooks his fingers up in a search for Brendon’s prostate.

“Yes, _yes_ , oh fuck, thank you, _fuck_ ,” Brendon babbles and Nate assumes he’s hit the right place. Brendon’s so wet that when Nate slips a third finger in, it goes so easily Nate fucks in much harder than he means to.

“Shit,” Brendon cries out, his ass clenching tight around Nate’s fingers. “You can, _oh_ , go hard, I like that.”

Nate nods to himself and tries to think of what he likes in his own heats. Most of it’s filthy, stuff he’d never share with anyone else but Alex, and just thinking about it has his body getting hotter. Some of it, though, he can do for Brendon. “You’re doing really well,” He tells Brendon, less like praise and more of a blunt statement, but Brendon doesn’t seem to mind.

“Good, so good,” Brendon gasps as Nate presses his fingers up to rub over Brendon’s prostate again. “Please, oh fuck, need to come.”

Nate moves his other hand up so it’s resting on the small of Brendon’s back. He’s sweating so much that his hoodie is damp through. Nate scrunches his nose in disgust but doesn’t move as he presses his fingers into Brendon as hard and as fast as he can. Slick is dripping out and soaking Nate’s fingers and Nate can’t help but watch in fascination. Alex doesn’t get wet, so they have to use lube when Nate fucks him, and it’s not the same effect at all. It’s kind of hot actually, watching how wet Brendon’s body is getting in response to Nate’s fingers.

When Nate presses a fourth finger in, Brendon shudders and comes with a high pitched whine, cock still untouched between his legs. Nate fingers him through it, until Brendon presses his face to the floor, panting softly.

“You good?” Nate asks and Brendon’s ass tightens around Nate’s fingers.

“Yeah,” He sounds subdued, and maybe slightly mortified. “It’s better, and I’ll be okay for a few minutes.”

“I’m gonna pull my fingers out then, yeah?” Nate asks. He can’t see Brendon’s face, so he can’t really judge Brendon’s mood, but the less awkward they can manage to make this, the better. Brendon’s definitely much more coherent than he was before his orgasm, though, that much is certain.

Brendon nods. “Yeah, um, that’s fine.” He keeps his face hidden.

Nate pulls his fingers out carefully, taking care not to hurt Brendon. He stares at his slick soaked fingers for a few seconds before wiping them off on Brendon’s hoodie, unsure what else to do. He wasn’t about to wipe them off on his own shirt and go back to Alex covered in Brendon’s slick.

Nate sits back on his heels, gasping when he finds the back of his jeans damp. He twists around, pressing a hand to the material. He’s wet, he realizes with some surprise, and his cock is hard as well. “Oh,” He says and looks up and over at Brendon.

Brendon’s still got his ass up in the air and his face on the floor and he doesn’t seem to be inclined to move anytime soon. Nate moves so Brendon’s spread ass isn’t right in his line of vision.

“Thanks for doing that. It-my heats always get really bad, really fast, when I don’t get taken care of.” Brendon doesn’t open his eyes, but his cheeks are two bright spots of color.

Nate’s face gets warm. “I-no problem,” He says weakly. “I’ve, um, definitely been there before. I couldn’t just leave you here.” He presses a palm to the front of his jeans and rocks against it. “Hope your alpha doesn’t kill me,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The whole hallway reeks of slick and heat and come.

Brendon snorts. “I won’t let him,” He mumbles. “Plus, you’re not an alpha, and I’m in heat, so he won’t even be mad, probably.” He doesn’t sound too concerned, so Nate tries to relax as well.

They lapse into an awkward silence. Brendon’s restless, twitching a little, like he might be fighting not to present himself to Nate again.

Nate’s wondering how much of the edge he really took off with the orgasm, while trying to ignore the dampness in his pants and not hump his hand until he comes in them. He wishes desperately for Alex, and tries not to read too much into his own arousal.

Brendon groans and drops down so he’s laying flat on the floor after a minute. Nate is grateful that it’s at least a less pornographic position, and he’s just about to check on Brendon again when he hears footsteps coming towards them.  He looks up just in time to see Alex and a guy he recognizes after a second as Spencer Smith from Panic! at the Disco come around the corner. He feels triumphant for correctly guessing the identity of Brendon’s alpha.

“Alex,” Nate says in relief and lets his eyes close for a brief second. His cock throbs in his jeans at the scent of his alpha and he knows full well Alex can smell his arousal.

Spencer flies over to Brendon, dropping down next to him. “Oh, baby, what happened?” He asks in his alpha voice, and Nate instinctively shrinks away. Even though Spencer is younger than him and Nate prides himself on being tough, it’s in his nature to react to an alpha voice.

Alex kneels down next to Nate and rubs his shoulder. “It’s fine,” He says. “Everyone else is in Panic’s dressing room. Nobody else was allowed to come because of Brendon’s heat.” He smiles down at Nate. “I was hardly allowed to come, actually.”

Brendon moans, eyes fluttering open. “Spence,” He mutters. The relief coming off of him is nearly palpable.  “Spencer, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know, I _swear_ , but then it hit and I was all _alone_ and lost, and I-I-it hurt so _bad_ , I couldn’t take it-”

“I know. It’s okay, sweetheart, I know you were being so good. You can’t help it in heats,” Spencer cuts him off. He pets the hair at the nape of Brendon’s neck and rubs his thumb over where Nate knows Brendon’s mating bite is. Brendon purrs softly in the back of his throat at the touch.

Nate doesn’t realize he’s been subconsciously rubbing his own mating bite until Alex’s hand is resting over his fingers, stopping the movement. “It’s okay,” He says to Nate and Nate wants to protest. He doesn’t need the assurances from his alpha, except for how he wants nothing more than for Alex to fuck him and then hold him for a few hours and maybe tell him he’s good. Nothing too intense.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Spencer asks Brendon. He runs his hand over Brendon’s body, his touch so soft and reverent that Nate averts his eyes. He really doesn’t have a problem with nudity or public displays of affection, but some things are too personal to watch.

“No,” Brendon says softly. “I-it hurt a lot, but Nate helped me. He fingered me and made it go away for a little while.”

Nate raises his head in surprise that Brendon knows his name, and then immediately feels stupid for assuming that Brendon _didn’t_ know it. Just because Brendon never said it doesn’t mean he didn’t know it. He wasn’t saying much of anything prior to his orgasm, anyway.

Spencer swallows hard and raises his head to fix Nate with his piercing blue eyes.

Nate fights down the urge to submit and stares right back, bolstered by Alex’s hand on his neck. “I didn’t hurt him,” Nate says defensively. “I just-he needed help, and I couldn’t leave him alone.”

Spencer nods slowly. “Thank you for helping Brendon,” He says, and Nate can tell that even though it pains him to say the words, Spencer genuinely means them.

Nate nods. “You’re welcome,” He says solemnly.

Spencer turns back to Brendon. “Let’s get you up,” He says softly to Brendon, putting an arm under him and helping him get up to his knees. Brendon sways slightly towards his alpha, eyes fluttering shut, and Nate can tell Brendon’s heat is starting to pull him under again.

Alex’s hand tightens on the back of Nate’s neck and he growls in his throat, so low that Nate almost can’t hear it. When he glances up, Alex’s face is creased in something akin to pain and Nate realizes with a jolt that the scent of Brendon’s heat is affecting Alex. He presses closer to his alpha and Alex relaxes fractionally.

Spencer bares his teeth at Alex. He helps Brendon gets his underwear and jeans pulled back up properly, and his hoodie tugged down until Brendon is fully dressed again. He alternates between giving Brendon soft looks and sending Alex threatening glances.

Brendon clings to his alpha. “Need you,” He mumbles and Spencer kisses his hair.

“Shh, I’m gonna get you out of here,” He says and scoops Brendon into his arms. Brendon purrs again and tucks his face into Spencer’s chest.

“Need you to fuck me so hard,” Brendon says, and though it’s muffled, it’s definitely clear enough that Alex and Nate can comprehend it.

Spencer’s grip on Brendon tightens as he stands. He nods at Alex and Nate before carrying Brendon down the hallway. Nate fully expects to have to deal more with Spencer in a few days when Brendon’s heat is over, but taking care of his omega takes precedence.  

Nate can’t say he’s not glad right now.

Nate doesn’t relax entirely until he can no longer smell Brendon and Spencer. “I’m kind of glad my next heat isn’t for a few months,” He says to Alex with a sigh. He’s so not ready to deal with that kind of neediness right now. He can’t even imagine how Alex deals with it for five days straight, but he’s never complained.

“Yeah?” Alex asks, slowly rubbing Nate’s back. He seems to have calmed down mostly now that only traces of Brendon’s scent are lingering. There’s probably slick on the floor, but Nate’s not about to clean it up.

Nate hesitates. “Yeah-I, well. I have some things to think about. And we should probably talk,” Alex’s hand moves lower, and Nate sighs in appreciation, arousal creeping up his spine and reminding him how wet he still is. He can smell Alex’s arousal on him still as well, so he doesn’t even feel bad for saying, “But that can wait. Tonight, I want you to fuck me hard.”

Alex raises his eyebrows and stands, holding out a hand to help Nate up. “Does helping other omegas get off get you all hot and bothered?” He asks. Nate takes the offered hand lets himself be pulled up.

Nate shrugs, because it’s honestly not so farfetched. He can’t deny that getting Brendon off turned him on somewhat. “Kept thinking about you,” He says instead of sharing those thoughts.

There’s plenty of time to discuss everything with Alex later, like after Alex fucks him nice and hard and Nate’s gotten a few hours of sleep and something to eat so he has a lot more energy to process the events of tonight. He steps closer and leans up to kiss Alex. He tries to put all of his feelings for Alex behind the press of his lips, to try and make up for everything he doesn’t know how to say yet.

Alex reaches down to cup Nate’s ass and hisses through his teeth when his fingers touch the material of Nate’s jeans. “Fuck, you’re wet,” He says sharply and Nate groans at the sharp spike in Alex’s arousal. “Leaked through your jeans and everything. You’re trying to kill me.”

Nate rocks back into Alex’s hands. “If you died, I'd have no alpha to fuck me.” He’s probably been hard since Brendon pulled his pants down, and he’d really like to go back to the bus and have Alex fuck him in the lounge. Everyone else will just have to deal.

Alex smiles. “Well, when you put it that way,” He says and Nate grins back.

He doesn’t even care that he never gets any more beer that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can always visit me at confessyourprayers.tumblr.com


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